


Rebel Rose

by emotionalmorphine



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Justice, Canon-Typical Violence, Enthusiastic Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Game(s), Prostitution, Sexual Harassment, Universe Alteration, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmorphine/pseuds/emotionalmorphine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Kirkwall lay in shambles, before Hawke, the city stood as a bastion of hope to those fleeing the Blight, accepting wayward refugees from all parts of Thedas, not just Fereldan.</p><p>Fleeing his Master, Fenris stumbles across Kirkwall, a place to hide, a place to lay in wait and end his slavery.</p><p>Running from the Circle one last time, Anders comes to Kirkwall looking for his beloved, Karl, taken from him years earlier.</p><p>The two meet with a blade buried in Fenris' side. Fenris, knowing that Danarius will come for him sooner rather than later, wants only to keep the kind Healer safe. </p><p>If only he could stay away. </p><p>Swept up by his own sudden attraction to the man, Fenris returns again and again. He knows he cannot have Anders but when his services are offered as more than just a healer, Fenris can't say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> My sincerest thanks goes to [WarriorMaggie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie) who put up with my whining about paragraph breaks and read this first chapter not just once or twice, but five or six times. Thank you, my Warrior Princess!

The knife was buried deep. With each step he took blood splattered to the cobblestones beneath his feet, a grisly path left behind him for anyone to follow.

No one would be following. He had made sure of that.

The knife dug against his rib with every inhale, grating against bone. He gasped a laboured breath and fresh pink blood bubbled from the wound.

Fenris knew he needed help. He knew better than to remove the knife, despite the pain it was causing him. Removing the knife would cause further damage on the way out.

He took the flight of steps up towards Hightown slowly. Each step up a mountain he had to conquer. He swayed slightly and grunted as he hit the wall with his shoulder. Everything swam around him, the world tipping and he grabbed at the wall desperately to keep himself upright. It wouldn't pass. Everything was blurring and he was tired. So tired. His eyes kept falling closed and he had to force them open and take another step.

He had heard of a healer in Hightown. Someone who treated anyone, someone who was discreet. The Healer asked for little payment, though the money didn't worry Fenris. He had enough to spare. He just required the help. The Healer's legend had preceded him - they said he could cure anything.

The doors to the Blooming Rose loomed ahead, the red lanterns swaying in the breeze. The walk across the common looked impossible. There was no wall to support him. Fenris wasn't entirely sure he was staying upright, everything swayed around him and the ground seemed to loom closer. He had to drag his feet, scared that if he took a step too large he would topple. His body didn't feel like his own, just an unyielding slab of blood and pain.

Every breath was agony. He wasn't getting enough air. The black spots in front of his eyes danced with the swaying of the lanterns and he crashed into rather than opened the door. A pained groan left him and blood trickled down over his lip. He saw the bloody handprint he left on the wood, a smear of red near the well used handle. It was warm inside, warmer than out in the frigid Kirkwall night, but it made the sweat bead on his neck and forehead. Fenris stumbled on the rug, his bare feet betraying him now that he had made his goal. He could push no further. He stumbled and fell, the ground coming at him fast.

"Good evening-- Maker! Someone fetch the Healer!"

Fenris felt a wash of relief flood over him just as the darkness gathered and pulled him under.


	2. Seeded

He remembered this. This pain. The darkness. Slivers of consciousness amidst the blankness of his mind.

His body was a torch, burning him up from the inside. A soothing hand lay something cool against his forehead. Shushed him as he groaned in pain. Relief came like a cool breeze, stealing away the pain and lulling him back to sleep.

When Danarius had performed the ritual to give Fenris the lyrium markings there had been so much pain. So much blood. It ran down into a well beneath the slab, dripping, dripping. Danarius would use it later. No need to waste something so precious. Fenris had screamed until he thought his throat would give but there had been no end, just another slice of the knife, the hot pour of lyrium, and the dripping of his blood. His body had burned. His nerves screaming along with his voice. There had been too many times he was unconscious. But there had been too many times he was awake.

Danarius had left him. Left him there, alone, on the cold slab in the darkness. He knew Danarius was waiting for him to die. No body could go through so much.

Yet he had lived.

The agony of fever gripped him as it did now. Fiery heat and burning cold, his body shaking, still racked with pain. His very veins burned, a stinging lash inside of him. He wanted to move, somehow move outside of his body and away from the pain.

And then the hand was back, soothing over his forehead, stroking his hair. Danarius had never soothed. Danarius had forced him to choke down potions when every touch felt like agony. Arms had grabbed him and held him up, forced his mouth open and he had the choice of swallowing or asphyxiating.

The sweat-soaked blanket was taken from his body but quickly replaced with another and the soothing hand was back, cool against his heated skin. His instinct was to turn away but he hadn't enough strength, couldn't even open his eyes, and the soft touch was kind and harmless and he had to trust.

He drifted.

Danarius had been so pleased when he survived. Congratulated himself on finding such a suitable candidate. He had touched the lyrium markings on Fenris' body, heedless to his pain, the agony such a simple touch caused. Fenris was his work, his property, and as long as he was alive he was worth something. He remembered nothing else. Whatever he was before was gone, burned away by the lyrium that sung inside of him.

The room had smelled of blood and the metallic tang of lyrium. Here he could smell the pungent green of poultices and the wood burning on the fire. He was restless but he ached. His body still felt not his own, his limbs wouldn't respond how he wanted and no matter how hard he tried he could not force his eyes to open.

A weight seemed to press down on his chest, every breath shallow and pained. Fenris had to turn his thoughts to something else, his breath hitching every time he focussed on the uneven staccato of his chest.

Above the crack of the fire he could hear a voice humming a soft tune. Further beyond was the raucous sounds of men and the clink of glass. Fenris brought himself back to the humming. The song was unfamiliar but comforting, a soft melodious tune he imagined one might sing to a child. Fenris had no knowledge of such things. If he had been sung to at one time as a child he did not remember it now. The voice came closer and Fenris heard the creak of a chair. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end and he must have tensed as the humming ended, voice shushing him instead. His hair was brushed back from his face where it stuck to his sweaty, warm skin.

"You're safe." A man's voice speaking the Trade tongue. Soft and gentle, speaking to him like one might soothe a startled animal. Fenris supposed he was as close to one as he might come.

"You're very lucky. I wasn't sure you would pull through, you know. You've lost a lot of blood and you did some serious damage internally. The knife was poisoned. Either you're unlucky or someone really wanted to see you dead."

Fenris wanted to admit to both. Luck was no friend to him and Danarius would see him dead before free.

"But you should be good as new after some TLC. It seems like you're a tough one."

Fenris badly wanted to open his eyes. Perhaps give some indication that he could hear and was listening. Making sense of the world around him seemed too much. He groaned and the soft hum of a tune began again.

* * *

 

Time was something that passed but meant little. As he drifted from memory to memory, sleep to awake, the only constant was the man in the room and the burning of the fire. The man didn't always speak to him, going about his daily routine with clinking of bottles and the grinding of a pestle. He hummed and spoke to people Fenris couldn't see and never stayed. Sometimes he seemed to speak to himself. At least, Fenris had thought the man was speaking to himself until he heard the chirp of a cat. Sometimes now when he listened he could hear the creature purring or licking itself. The man seemed very fond of the animal. He called it Pounce.

Fenris was aware of his bandages being changed, fresh poultices applied to the wound and surrounding flesh. The blankets were changed when Fenris began to sweat and were replaced with fresh linens that smelled of lye and herbs. He helped Fenris drink water through a piece of straw and empty his bladder when the need pressed him. The man dealt with all his problems with a friendly, calm regularity that Fenris found himself trusting. The man was a healer and he had taken Fenris as his patient. And he was as good as they claimed.

He urged himself to listen, to become more aware of his surroundings. He listened for the noises from the bar rise and fall in volume with the time of day, felt the fire die to coals until it was brought roaring back to life as the chill of night descended on Kirkwall, and forced himself to open his eyes, if only for moments at a time. He was in a large room on a cot pressed against a wall. A chair was placed near the edge of the bed. His vision swam around him when he tried to focus on anything for too long or on anything further away than his feet and he was forced to shut his eyes and rest.

The Healer was never close enough to see when he managed to open his eyes and Fenris found himself wondering what the man was like. Was he elf or human? Old or young? His voice gave nothing away and Fenris wasn't familiar enough with the accents of Southerners.

The pain was still there but the fever had died. The poison flowed from his system and when the Healer made him drink it was potions not water, things that coated his tongue and tasted of herbs and dirt. He made no fuss. It was in his best interest. The pain began to recede, ebbing away until he felt pleasantly numb, a tingle in his fingers and toes. It did nothing to help his conscious state, clearly crafted so that he would sleep and heal.

"Want to try eating something?"

Fenris blinked, his eyes crusty and heavy. He looked up and the man smiled at him. He was at least as young as Fenris himself, human, with blond hair pulled back with a cord and a gold hoop in one ear. He held a tray and the scent of warm broth stirred Fenris' stomach to rumbling.

"It's good to see you with your eyes open," the Healer said and placed the tray on the chair beside the cot. "Come on, I'll help you sit up a bit. I know you're tired but we'll start slow, okay?"

The words churned through Fenris' mind and he gave a slight nod even though he wasn't entirely sure what he was agreeing to. He was still staring at the man; the man who had saved him, who had cared for him with soothing hands and soothing voice. He didn't flinch when the Healer helped him up, propping cushions behind his back and neck so that he could eat in relative comfort. The man's touch brought no pain. Whether it was whatever he had been given to dull his senses or something natural, Fenris couldn't say. His side certainly still ached and pulled when he shifted.

"Careful, now. Don't go pulling those stitches I worked so hard on. Just be slow, I'm here to help, even if you grizzled warrior types don't like to accept it." The Healer sat beside him on the cot, warm thigh touching Fenris'. He wore an odd assortment of clothes that looked like they had seen some wear since he acquired them. Fenris' gaze stuck on the feathered pauldrons on the man's coat. They reminded him of the way some Magisters showed their wealth with animal pelts and brightly coloured feathers on their garb and in their hair.

"Don't give me that look. I'd leave it to you but I doubt you can hold the spoon. Promise I won't tell anyone you needed my help." The Healer winked and Fenris looked down to the spoon the man was holding towards him. He had to accept the help. The Healer was accurate - Fenris wouldn't have been able to hold the spoon. He accepted the first spoonful of broth. It was warm and flavoursome, not too salty or strong for his empty stomach.

He couldn't handle much. The effort of sitting awake and drinking the broth offered to him was enough to drain him of what little energy he had and he found himself being lowered back to the cot, the bowl and tray gone.

"You did well. Rest up. You can always have more later. I'll be right here if you need anything."

Fenris wanted to ask his name but fell asleep before he could assemble the words in his mind. It could wait.

Just as promised, the Healer was always there to attend to him. He had things brought to the room by others, food and water and blankets when they needed to be changed. If he did leave it couldn't have been for more than a few minutes and he was always there when Fenris opened his eyes. He was usually working, grinding herbs and wrapping bandages but Fenris did catch him reading once, curled in front of the fire in an old stuffed chair, the light glinting off his earring and highlighting his hair.

His energy returned far too slowly and it seemed like days before he could even remain awake for longer than it took to eat a bowl full of broth. Fenris suspected that had a lot to do with the potions the Healer gave him but was slowly weaning him off. While he still felt weak, he did feel more awake and was able to concentrate on what the man said without his head becoming fuzzy and thoughts jumbled. It was a start.

The Healer sat down beside him on the cot every time he brought a meal, helping Fenris sit against the cushions. Along with the broth he had brought a piece of bread. The idea of eating something solid finally after too many bowls of broth made Fenris’ mouth water. He brought the piece of buttered bread to his mouth and took a bite, eyes closing at the small amount of joy such a simple thing offered.

The Healer laughed. "Good, huh? Well, we will have you eating properly again in no time. You're on the mend, now."

Fenris nodded and took another bite of bread before accepting a spoonful of broth. He finished both far quicker than he had before.

"So, think you can tell me your name? I'd like to know who I'm spending so much time with lately," the Healer said and set the tray aside.

Fenris cleared his throat. It was raspy with disuse and the first start he made on a sound broke away to nothing. "F-fenris," he managed finally. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach that had nothing to do with the food he had just eaten. Danarius might have a bounty out on his head, a price that an impoverished healer might decide was worth the trouble.

It was almost as though the man could sense Fenris' discomfort. He patted Fenris' leg. "Don't worry, no one has come looking for you. Not that I've heard of, anyway. No one except a scant few even know you're here. You're safe."

Safe. Fenris hadn't known 'safe' in a very long time. He had been hunted since he fled Danarius' hold and he would be hunted until one of them was dead. Yet he found himself trusting this man. A healer who offered him safety and care with so far no mention of repayment. Fenris cleared his throat again. "What-- Your name?" he asked with far too much difficulty.

The Healer stared at him and then started to laugh. "Oh, Andraste's Knickers! Didn't I introduce myself? After all this time?" He tipped his head back as he laughed, and Fenris found himself watching the long line of his neck. "Anders. My name is Anders. You should have asked sooner."

Fenris hoped the look he gave the Healer - Anders - was enough to make him realise how silly a statement that was.

"We're in the Blooming Rose, if you've forgotten. You fell into the entranceway bleeding to death. That knife did some serious damage - punctured your lung! You are lucky you found me here. I really have to find out who keeps spreading these rumours about my being here. I'm supposed to be in hiding, you know."

Fenris wanted to tell him he was doing a poor job of it.

"You'll have to tell me how you got in such a state when you're more able. With that big sword and all that armour I'm guessing you can look after yourself."

"My sword?" Fenris asked.

"Still here. Had it cleaned, along with your armour and leathers. Can't do much about the tear in the side, though, not without stitching it back together. But I figured you could deal with that. It just wouldn't do to have blood stinking up the place where I heal people. And there was a lot of it."

Fenris made a noncommittal sound. A lot of that blood had not been his, and a lot of it had been his.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need," Anders said. "I'd prefer that to seeing you back again in worse shape."

"And...your payment?" Fenris asked.

"Don't worry about that now. You just focus on getting the rest you need and healing up."

Fenris had trouble trusting, he knew that. What could he expect but to be used, to be abused at the hands of another? But this man, this 'Anders', was gaining nothing from him and was giving him everything.

More awake and aware of his surroundings, Fenris was able to watch Anders work. The Healer crafted potions and poultices throughout the day and sent them off with messengers who came to his door. To Fenris' surprise, Anders did leave him, ducking from the room several times a day, sometimes returning with bloody hands and bandages. Fenris was intruding on the man's life, taking up his space and interrupting his work. But he could not will himself healthy quicker. He would owe Anders much and he thought to the coin he had stashed away with a dwarf who played at banker. If the coin remained at all. He could always gain more. The more men Danarius sent after him, the more bodies Fenris divested of gold and trinkets.

A large orange cat often strolled into the room. Pounce. It made itself comfortable on the chair in front of the fire and once came close enough that Fenris could lower his hand to the creature's head, scratching behind its ears. It had regarded him with disdain and strolled back out of the room, tail in the air. Anders fed it from his own plate or left scraps from his dinner should the feline not return in time. He seemed very taken with the cat, often spending his nights petting it as he read.

And Fenris slept. Until he felt he could no more. Until the exhaustion seeped away and he could breathe properly, lungs filling with air he felt like he had been deprived of for too long. Anders brought him bigger meals, broth swapped for soup full of vegetables and chunks of meat, and Fenris was able to feed himself. He still tired quickly but he had no need for the endless sleep he had been drawn into days before.

Anders sometimes spoke to him, but never expected an answer. He kept conversation light, chatting about the weather and the price he paid for herbs, things Fenris could choose to comment on should he wish or just listen, keeping his mind active.

"Here, you can help me roll these bandages," Anders said and a basket was deposited in front of Fenris. It gave his hands something to keep busy with, even if it let his mind wander. He had not expected boredom. Fenris had never been bored. Danarius had kept him busy and the life of a slave was one kept on the edge, ready to jump should the order be given, ready to cow should a hand be raised.

He found himself eager to listen to Anders, watching the Healer move about his room as he worked. Anders was witty and bright and Fenris cursed his own inability to hold a conversation. It didn't seem to concern Anders and he spoke to Fenris regardless of whether he received an answer. He thought he might enjoy conversing with Anders, if he knew what to say and what to speak of.

"Just pluck the leaves from the stems," Anders instructed another time, giving him a bowl of herbs. Anders gave him small tasks he could complete in bed and didn't cause strain. If he could help Anders in any way, he would. He was taking up Anders' room, his time, his supplies - what little he could do was better than nothing.

Fenris knew he was being coddled but he relaxed into the cushions behind him and continued on with his tasks all the same. He had recovered slowly from the ritual all those years ago. His body had been pushed to its limit and could not snap back as though nothing had happened. Danarius had not coddled. Fenris was forced to trail along after his Master as soon as he could stand and walk, taught himself to hold back the bile in his throat and hide smears of blood from reopened wounds. Danarius had been no healer and the woman he employed was hard and weathered with age, had fed Fenris potion after potion until he heaved and shook, all but passing out when he was allowed to curl on the floor at the end of his Master's bed.

Pain was hard to remember. Fenris knew he had been in pain, agony, but could not recall how it actually felt. He knew this was similar, knew he was recovering from an injury just as devastating. But the memory of pain was already leaving him as he healed, replaced with an itch to be well again, an ache to return to his normal life, however unsatisfactory that had been.

* * *

 

"You're probably bored out of your mind," Anders said to him as Fenris settled back into the cot. He was able to walk around the room without pain, just an ache in his ribs and a shortness of breath that Anders said would pass with time. Time he was beginning to fear he did not have.

Fenris grunted. It wasn't his place to complain. Anders was not there to entertain him. He commanded enough of the Healer's time.

"I could use a break. How about I read to you for a bit?"

Fenris glanced at the book the Healer had resting on the arm of his chair. It had been a firm favourite the past few nights.

"It's complete trash, of course. Written by Varric Tethras. Didn't know he knew how to write lewd novels."

"He is likely an outcast," Fenris said.

"Very likely. Probably isn't even scared of falling into the sky like a proper dwarf. It's fun, though. About a Templar who falls in love with an assassin."

"It sounds like drivel."

Anders laughed. "Too true it is! But it passes the time."

Fenris was happy enough to listen to the man read aloud. His voice had a soothing edge, just a hint of an accent different to those from the Marchers, and he read with conviction, twisting the tale.

It passed the time.

It was difficult to accept that he had become so weak. His strength was keeping him free. Danarius sent his men after Fenris, assassins and mages, and they would bring him back dead or alive. Fenris had no doubt that Danarius would prefer him alive but he refused to return to that life. He would sooner end his life than be a slave once more.

Whatever tentative safety Anders offered him would not last forever. Danarius' men always found him. He would not endanger the man that had saved his life. A competent healer would make a nice prize for a slaver.

"Don't you push yourself too hard," Anders warned but Fenris needed to push, needed his strength and power before he could leave. So he pushed. Worked himself harder than Anders liked, lifting heavy bags of grain and barrels for the tap room. Pushed himself until Anders deemed him ready to leave.

"Now, I don't want to see you back with another knife wound in a week, understand?" Anders said as Fenris buckled his breastplate over his chest.

"I will endeavour to keep knives out of me," Fenris said.

It made Anders laugh and Fenris found himself quirking a small smile. He had genuinely enjoyed Anders' company. He expected nothing of Fenris. Not even conversation. But he still regarded Fenris as another person, someone worthy of his time. Not a slave.

The Healer would be safer with Fenris gone.

He didn't know how to thank Anders. So he didn't. He would return with coin later, enough to pay off his debt. He stepped out into the fresh air and took a deep breath. He could feel the warm morning air on his skin, the breeze rustling his hair. He hadn't felt anything like it in weeks.

Fenris returned to Lowtown, easily finding the Hanged Man tavern where he had been staying before his injury. He doubted his scant few possessions had been held for him once his room payment ran out, but he didn't miss them. He had everything of importance on him.

Fenris pushed past the barflies, the men and women that didn't care what time of day they began drinking, and went to the back where the first room's door loomed. He knocked.

There was a shuffling and a grunt and the sound of something falling. Fenris waited until the door opened and a sleepy dwarf looked up at him. "It's early, you know-- Hey, Broody! Nice to see you. Thought for sure you were dead."

"I am not."

"Well that I can see. What happened? I saved your things for you. Y'know, hoped you would come back." He ushered Fenris into the well appointed room and offered him a seat. Fenris was glad to take it, an unfamiliar ache in his legs from walking the many stairs from Hightown.

"I was injured. I...found the healer you spoke of."

The dwarf grinned. "Ah, well that would explain why you're in one piece. Told you he was good."

"He said to stop spreading his whereabouts as he is in hiding."

This time the dwarf laughed, a hearty guffaw that had him holding his stomach and throwing his head back. "He'll be alright. I do my best to keep him safe. Speaking of, I hope you don't mind I did the same for you. It'll cost you but I think it's worth it."

"There were others looking for me?"

"Seems you're an important asset to someone, Broody. I managed to convince your followers that you had moved on to Starkhaven. Don't know how long it will keep them off your tail."

Tail. Fenris could have laughed. He was, after all, his Master's ‘Little Wolf’.

"With your fees, you've still got a generous amount of coin left. No idea where you get it all and I don't think I want to know."

"You do not," Fenris said. "I will need coin enough to pay the Healer for his time and abilities."

"That's gonna cost you. But he is worth it. Give me until the end of the day and I'll have your money. You can do me the favour of delivering something to him from me, if you're going his way."

Fenris collected his scant belongings from the dwarf. A few pouches of supplies, two health potions he had purchased, and his whetstone and flint. He tucked everything away safe and waited. He had nowhere else to be. The tavern was warm and offered food.

The dwarf came back just as he promised with bags full of coin. He dropped them on the table in front of Fenris and sat down across from him. "Give him this from me," he said and held out a linen-wrapped parcel. "And don't get robbed on the way there."

"That is not a concern."

"No, don't suppose it is with that sword you carry. You're likely fairly tough in a fight."

Fenris' lip quirked. "I have no trouble."

The dwarf stood and slapped the table with his thick hands. "Well, best get back to it. No rest for the wicked, and all."

Fenris looked up. "Dwarf... I never asked your name."

The dwarf grinned. "I quite liked it that way, but we have become quite the associates. Varric Tethras, at your service."

Fenris' brows lifted in surprise. Varric Tethras, the same one that had written the trashy novel Anders had read to him.

"You've heard of me, then?" Varric asked, puffing his chest out.

"I am acquainted with your work," Fenris answered.

Varric laughed.

* * *

 

The Blooming Rose was in full swing when Fenris returned. Men sang in groups, beer sloshing from their glasses, while others sat and enjoyed the entertainment provided. The air had a sweet smell to it, trying to mask the scent of men and grog. It was stifling warm, the cloying scent choking Fenris.

"Ah, you're back! You're looking much better," a young woman said. She looked too young in Fenris' eyes, yet in the Imperium he had seen much worse, much younger girls abused at the hands of their masters.

"I wish to see the Healer."

"I can fetch him for you. He doesn't have any patients right now. You just take a seat and he'll be right out."

Fenris nodded. He found a seat at the back of the room, two plush chairs and a table, away from the cajoling men and their obnoxious hollering. He looked to a man with a busty female seated on his lap and sneered. It turned his stomach to see people used in such a way.

"Use some company there, handsome?"

Fenris looked up at the elvhen man. He stood with his hips jutted out and a sensuous look on his face, an annoying smirk on his lips that had Fenris wanting to wipe it from him. "No."

The elf leaned closer, resting his delicate hand on the back of the plush chair. He smelled of roses. 

"Now, now, can't have you here all alone and wanting. Good looking thing like you is no hardship."

Fenris scowled but the man did not leave. He trailed his hand down the length of the chair and placed it near Fenris' leg. The jolt he gave was instinctual, shying away from contact.

"That's enough, Jethann," Anders said.

Fenris looked up and held his breath, keeping in a sigh of relief.

The elvhen man stood straight and folded his arms neatly across his chest. "I didn't know he was yours."

"Fenris is...a friend. Leave him be and find your money elsewhere tonight."

Jethann swaggered away, shaking his head. He didn't have to look long as a Templar swooped in and stole him away from the crowd.

"I thank you," Fenris said.

Anders sat across from him, relaxing into the comfortable chair. His eyes looked heavy, dark bags blooming on his too pale skin. The chair seemed to swallow him up, enveloping his lanky frame. "I didn't expect to see you so soon...or again," Anders said.

Fenris produced the two pouches of coin, placing them on the table between them. They gave a satisfying thunk. Anders' eyes widened and he looked from the pouches to Fenris.

"I don't expect payment," he said.

"I do not have debts," Fenris said. He placed the wrapped parcel next to the coin purses. "This is from the dwarf. Varric."

Anders leaned forward and unwrapped the parcel to find bunches of herbs and enough clean fabric for many bandages. He smiled and ran his fingers over the fabric swathe. Fenris followed the movement, watching Anders' graceful hands move almost lovingly over his gift.

"Varric treats his associates well," Anders said. "I didn't know you knew him."

"Nor did I. The dwarf has my business. I find him trustworthy."

Anders grinned. "He is, that. I know he keeps sending patients my way. But keeps trouble from the door. Not that Lusine would ever let anything happen in her establishment."

Fenris looked past Anders and watched as a young girl dragged a guardsman up the stairs and into a room. This was the place Anders had decided to operate from - a brothel. "This establishment seems ill suited to your purposes," he said.

"I suppose that's true. Still, no one would think of finding me here. I treat the girls and lads for free and Lusine lets me stay in the back room. It works out well for us both. The less customers coming away with a nasty itch, the more likely they are to return."

"I see," Fenris said, lips curling at the mere thought. Yet, he couldn't blame Anders for his situation. A man who gave of his own time for seemingly little reward to heal the sick was a commendable one. Especially one who had told him that he was in hiding. From whom, or what, Fenris didn't know and he did not ask.

Anders motioned to one of the girls and she nodded, hurrying behind the bar to pull two mugs of beer. She smiled at Anders and her hand lingered too long on his shoulder. Fenris watched her manicured nails tighten in the Healer's coat for a moment as she hesitated to leave. Fenris could understand. It had not escaped him that Anders was an attractive man. If he fed himself properly and received more rest it would only improve his appeal. A skilled healer would be a more than suitable husband for a barmaid or whore and Anders was unwed and, Fenris gathered, unattached. He was a kind, gentle man with intelligence and wit and a warm smile that would appeal to woman or man.

Anders seemed unaffected by her presence. He raised his glass to Fenris before taking a long drink, head tipping back and exposing his pale throat. Fenris stared.

He had not meant to stay. He had paid Anders for his services. There was nothing else for him here. Yet he found himself bringing the glass to his lips. The beer was better than the swill served at the Hanged Man.

Truthfully, he had nothing better to do. He was an escaped slave outrunning his captors. He cut them down when they came for him but otherwise found himself unengaged. It was not a bad thing to rest in the warm room, let the sounds wash over him as he watched Anders' hands moving as he spoke. The beer made him warmer, settling heavy in his stomach. When Anders laughed, Fenris found himself smiling.

So he returned. Always with purpose, bringing Anders new parcels from Varric or bringing him payments made by grateful clients. It gave Fenris a task and if each time he stopped to spend an hour or more with Anders, he thought not much of it. The man was interesting and seemed to enjoy having someone to speak to, even if that person never replied with much at all.

Fenris had never had a friend, at least not one he could remember. Anders enjoyed his company, was excited to tell Fenris of new patients and of the day's happenings in the Rose. Neither interested Fenris much but he found himself watching the way Anders' face lit up when he entered the room, the way his hands moved as he spoke or plucked leaves from stems, until he found that he enjoyed watching Anders.

The feeling was new to him. A warm but uneasy feeling in his stomach that tingled its way to his toes whenever Anders smiled. He sneered at the men and women who got too close to Anders, found himself wanting to remove their searching hands. The feeling was new and he didn't know what to do with it.

“Maker, if one more person tries to hire me I’m going to throw a fit!” Anders said. He flopped down into the cushioned chair, the space that had become theirs over the time Fenris had been visiting.

Fenris’ mouth was dry. He drank greedily from his beer and tried not to meet Anders’ eyes.

“You could give it a chance,” Viveka said as she placed the beer down in front of Anders. “You’re always telling us how promiscuous you were in your youth.”

Fenris choked on his beer. He coughed and found himself staring at Anders. He would not have expected that of him.

“Everyone was doing it. It’s not like I was bending over for just anyone. At least I knew their name...most of the time,” Anders said. His cheeks flushed and he brought his beer glass up to hide his blush.

Viveka grinned. Her hand curled on Anders’ forearm and Fenris felt the lump rise in his throat. “You might like it. You’d make more coin than you do with your arms in blood and guts.”

“You just have to have you arm up in something else,” Jethann added, a lewd grin on his face.

“Anders is not the type,” Fenris found himself saying. He could never imagine it of the man. He was intelligent and had worth for more than what was between his legs.

“Fenris is right. Though I’ve got nothing against it, you know. As far as I can tell all your customers are very thoroughly pleased, Jethann,” Anders said.

“ _Very_ thoroughly,” Jethann agreed.

“If only you would consider a change of profession,” Madam Lusine said. Her sharp gaze raked up Anders body. “You could make me a lot of coin.”

Fenris found himself watching Anders. How must he have been in his younger days? Stealing away with another lad or a pretty girl from his town, bubbling with life and the exuberance of youth. Anders did not seem all that old, certainly not any older than Fenris, though he had no real evidence of his own age. They were not all that much older than the whores that worked the Blooming Rose. Would Anders have considered working at the Rose in his youth? Fenris certainly enjoyed his company, more than he had any right to.

He should not spend so much time with the Healer. Yet he returned. Again and again and again. Lacking even the flimsiest of excuses. He had no parcels, no payments, just a desire to see the man and spend time in his company. If Anders minded, he said nothing. He welcomed Fenris with a bright smile and eager conversation. If Anders still worked, Fenris would wait in the bar, fingers itching and jumping at every loud noise or slight touch. His markings ached, a dull heat that singed at his skin and flared when a rowdy customer bumped into his side or brushed his arm reaching across the bar. Fenris had grown used to the pain.

He noticed Madam Lusine watching him on more than one occasion, her gaze on his branding. Fenris knew the look of greed, knew the way it pricked in a person’s eyes and turned their head. He didn’t trust her to keep his comings and goings secret. Yet he trusted Anders. Anders whose gentle touch to his arm never hurt in the way others’ touch ached. Anders, who he _knew_ spoke to Lusine about him from the way her eyes sharpened as she watched him.

“I told you, no!” Fenris looked up, recognizing Anders’ voice from across the crowded tavern. His accent was different than most of the customers. Fenris could lead himself to believe that was the only reason he recognised the man's voice.

Through the crowd he could see the Healer pressed against the door to his room, a tall Templar looming over him, helmet held under his arm. Fenris didn’t hear the Templar’s voice. It drowned away in the swirl of commotion. Instead he saw Anders’ hand coming up to push the Templar away, the shake of fear in his body.

Fenris was moving before he made the decision to do so. He pushed through the crowd and came up behind the Templar. The man was taller than him by at least a foot but it did not matter to Fenris. He grabbed the Templar’s arm, the one that had trapped Anders against the door, and pulled it behind the man’s back. “He asked you to leave,” Fenris said, his voice curt.

The Templar stiffened and attempted to wrench his arm free. Fenris held him tight.

“I thought he was one of the whores!” the Templar said and struggled in Fenris’ hold. “You better let me go, knife-ear.”

"Or you will do what?” Fenris asked. He wrenched the man’s arm up until the Templar yelped in pain, knees buckling.

“Fenris, let him be. He didn’t hurt me,” Anders said. His calm voice soothed Fenris’ anger.

Patrons of the bar had stopped to look at them, the noise dying around them until all Fenris could hear was Anders’ wavering breaths. Breaths that quickened as two Templars rose from their seats at the bar. Fenris loosened his grip and the Templar dropped to one knee and yanked his arm back.

“Bloody elf, you his bodyguard or something?” the Templar asked. He waved at his comrades, dismissing them.

“I am his…” Fenris let his voice trickle away. What was he to Anders? “I am his friend,” he settled on and looked up at Anders, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah well I just want to have a good time, not piss off an angry elf. You keep him. He ain’t that good looking!”

Fenris waited until the Templar had risen to his feet and left to join his companions at the bar, still rubbing his arm.

“That was stupid,” Anders said and grabbed Fenris’ hand. He led Fenris back into his room, closing the door behind them. Fenris could feel Anders’ hand quaking.

Anders slumped against the door and wrapped his arms around himself. “You shouldn’t test them. Templars have nasty tempers.”

Fenris watched as Anders rubbed at his own arms, as though trying to coax warmth back into himself. He wouldn’t meet Fenris’ eyes.

“I would not have him hurt you,” Fenris said.

“Well...I thank you, then. But I could have handled it myself.”

“You did not seem to be handling it well.”

Anders gave a dry laugh. He leaned back, resting his head against the wood of the door. “No, I guess I wasn’t.”

Against his better judgement, against his natural impulses, Fenris reached out and touched his hand to Anders’ shoulder, fingers splaying amongst the feathers of his coat. “You are safe,” he said.

Anders gave a watery smile and raised his hand to cover Fenris’.

* * *

 

"You come here most every day and you have never availed yourself of our services," Lusine said to him. She touched her hand delicately to his chest and Fenris tensed but didn't move. "Why is that?"

"I am not interested."

Lusine laughed; a light, insincere titter. "Come now, all men can be tempted. I do know you have coin to pay for even our premium service."

Fenris clenched his fists. He had come to see Anders but found himself stuck in the tavern room while the Healer assisted another. He did not like to wait. More so, he did not like to be disturbed.

"Is there nothing that you see? Nothing that can tempt you?"

Fenris' gaze did flick around the bar, moving between bodies on display. None interested him. He hated the insincerity, the act, the way they looked through him. He did not need mindless temptation filled so pointlessly.

Lusine pulled her hand back. "I see. Not a man ruled by his cock. Rare, indeed. Yet you come sniffing around every day." The pretence was gone. A shrewdness narrowed her eyes. "If you have unusual tastes, we can be very accommodating. And none would have to know."

"I have no unusual tastes," Fenris snapped. He glanced over his shoulder to look towards the door to Anders' room. He should not have. Lusine smirked and her gaze followed his to Anders' door.

She folded her arms, painted nails tapping against her skin. "Yet, you have tastes. Oh yes, you can be tempted. I remind you that you could have any in my employ."

Fenris froze. His heart clenched in his chest. He should not be thinking of such things. What desires did a slave have? What pleasures did they deserve? He knew nothing of companionship, nothing of want. Yet it was inside of him, had wormed its way through him with each kind smile and each moment spent in the man’s company.

If it was with him, it would be different. Anders did not stare through him with blank eyes. Anders did not lie to his face for coin. And he wanted. Wanted those long fingers on him, wanted to bury his own in soft golden hair, wanted what he had been neglected of as a slave. Danarius had used him. Hurt him for his own pleasure, shown Fenris nothing but pain and abuse. Anders would not use him that way.

He had to swallow, trying to wet his mouth now that it had gone dry.

Anders was a healer, not a common whore. He couldn’t buy him. There was no price he could place on the man. But Fenris knew there was no other way he could have him. He had spent too much time in Kirkwall as it was, hiding here where his Master knew he could be found. Danarius would come for him and Fenris would be free or die. He had no time to, what, court a man? The idea was laughable.

He looked back at Lusine. Her smile twisted and Fenris’ stomach clenched.

"Anders. I want Anders."


	3. Growing

Fenris found himself guided through a dim corridor to a back room. The stairs he had never before climbed behind him. All around him he could hear the sounds of men and women, gasps and groans, the real music behind the tavern veneer.

The room smelled of roses. Sabina lit the candle nearest the bed first, illuminating the plush red covers and draped fabrics. Fenris was familiar with rooms like these.

“Take a seat and I’ll bring you some wine,” Sabina said and motioned towards a red velvet chair. She lit the candle on the table and hurried away.

Fenris could not sit. Yet he propped his sword near the wall within easy reach. He did not know what he was doing here. He could not _buy_ Anders. What he desired was not for sale. He should not even entertain the idea. He sullied Anders’ good name with just the thought.

Fenris sat with a huff. The points of his gauntlets dug into the table. He should leave. He had acted without thought. He knew better than to let his own wants sway him.

Just as he stood, Sabina returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Fenris sat quickly, aware of her scrutiny.

“Madam Lusine is talking with him,” she said as she poured a glass of wine.

“I should leave,” Fenris said but didn’t stand.

Sabina looked at him in surprise. “Why would you leave?”

“I spoke in haste. Anders is a good man. He is a healer. Not a--”

“A whore?”

Fenris stood. Sabina was forgotten as he stared across the room at Anders. The man he wanted with a desire he had never felt before. He should be furious that Fenris thought so little of him.

“I am to apologize,” Fenris said, words tumbling from his mouth. “Fasta vass! You are a healer!”

“You can leave, Sabine,” Anders said. He smiled at the woman as she rushed past him, obviously eager to remove herself from the situation. She closed the door behind her with a resolute _click_.

"I give you my apologies. I shall leave you," Fenris continued but as he stepped forward Anders moved to press himself against the door, holding the handle closed.

"Did I ask for your apologies?" Anders asked. "You know, if you wanted a shag you could've just asked. It's not like you're hard on the eyes."

Fenris felt a shock run through him at the thought of Anders even looking at him in such a way. He was a monster; a sick creation of a mad man.

"I did wonder why you kept coming to see me. Thought you might be watching me for someone. Turns out you were just watching me." Anders swayed forward, hands behind his back, entirely too smug. "Lucky me. I scored an elf."

"You jest."

"Well, it's quite funny! But it would have been easier just to ask me out to dinner, or even try for a snog. Instead of..." Anders waved his hand. "All of this."

"I am not interested in courting you," Fenris snapped. Anders was teasing him. This had been an ill-advised idea from the start. Fenris moved to the side to go around Anders but the man stepped into his path and waggled his finger.

"Uh-uh. Not so fast. You, sit." Anders pressed his hand to Fenris' breastplate and Fenris moved back without hesitation. The backs of his knees hit the chair and he sat, staring up at Anders, his brows drawing together in confusion.

"You wouldn't believe how many times Lusine has tried to talk me into coming back here with a customer. And yet, here I am." Anders laughed. "But let's get this straight - I am not a prostitute. And I have rules. And you will follow them."

Fenris nodded but his mind swirled with an onslaught of possibilities. The want surged inside of him, hopeful with this chance. A chance he did not deserve. He swallowed. "If you are not a...prostitute...am I still to pay you?"

Anders stuck his hands on his hips. "Of course you're going to pay me, because I need the coin and I don't have to do this, you know. I can keep my hands to myself even if you are exceedingly gorgeous and I've spent a little too much time in the last weeks thinking of you."

"Thinking...of me?" Fenris asked, his voice thick.

"Yes, but you're not interested in courting. Can't say I have much time for courting, myself. So, here we are." Anders raised his hands to the buckles of his coat, sliding one undone. Fenris watched it clink to the side and felt the blood rush in his head, ears ringing.

He had not thought this through at all. He had no idea what to do with Anders if he was to have him. But he wanted, his fingers itching with the need to touch and hold.

"Nothing to say? I know you're usually quiet but I'm growing nervous here. Do you want this or not?"

Fenris stood slowly, drawing himself up before Anders. The Healer was taller than him but Fenris barely noticed and didn't care. He reached up and Anders caught his wrist around the metal of his cuff.

"These all need to come off, Ser Pointy."

Fenris cursed himself and pulled his hand back, stripping his gauntlets off and dropping them by his feet. He reached for the buckle of his breastplate next but Anders' hand stopped him again.

"Let me," he said and Fenris' breath caught in his chest as his breastplate was worked free and pulled off to join the gauntlets on the rug.

He couldn't wait any longer. His heart threatened to tear through his chest, the sound of his rushing blood deafening. He reached up and buried his fingers in Anders' hair and their lips met in an uncoordinated kiss with a clink of teeth and a gasp from the Healer.

Fenris had to stand on his toes but he pressed his chest to Anders' and marvelled at the soft slide of the man's lips. He had kissed so few people and he had never found it pleasurable, had never understood the purpose until now. He was tasting Anders, breathing the same air as him. Anders' hands rested on his shoulders and slid down the exposed skin of his arms. It should have hurt.

Anders pulled away first, drawing back and breathing in a quick gasp of air. "Yes, well..." His voice wavered. "That's a very good place to start. But I didn't tell you about--"

Fenris captured his lips again and it coaxed a groan from Anders' throat. Desire welled in Fenris' body, a hot surge through his veins, a brightness that coalesced inside of him as his fingers stroked Anders' skin, felt the fluttering pulse in his neck.

The only sound in the room was their combined breaths, the wet slide of lips and the little noises Anders made when Fenris stroked his thumb under Anders' jaw. Anders scrabbled at Fenris' surcoat, reaching for the clasps and working them open one by one. The leather parted and fell open and Anders broke the kiss and looked down.

"Maker's Breath. I mean, I know those markings are everywhere but..." He stroked the flat of his hand along Fenris' chest.

Fenris closed his eyes. An electric tingle ran down his body along the lines of lyrium. Never had he allowed anyone to touch him like this. When it had been forced upon him, it had never felt pleasurable.

This was pleasure. And he wanted more.

Fenris dropped his leather surcoat to the floor. He reached for Anders' remaining buckles, sliding them open. With the last buckle free he could push the coat from Anders' shoulders, the heavy fabric falling away to pool around his ankles. Before Fenris could reach for the tunic, Anders was pulling it over his head and throwing it at the chair. Chest bared, Fenris could see how little weight the Healer carried. He could see the line of ribs, skin pulled too tight across collarbones and shoulders. But it was the trail of golden hair on the man's chest that enthralled Fenris and he reached forward to touch the wiry hair with his fingertips.

Anders giggled.

Fenris looked up, startled from his reverie. "Did you--"

"You were tickling me! Even a manly man such as myself-" Fenris scoffed. "-can be ticklish!" As if to prove his point, Anders' fingers dug into Fenris' sides, trying to illicit the same response.

Instead, Fenris moaned and swayed closed to Anders, his brands lighting up in the dim room.

Anders pulled his hands away as if he were burned, which was the last thing Fenris wanted. But he could not calm his brands, the lyrium humming inside of him, echoing the pulse of his heart.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a mage! Sweet Andraste, look at that light up!" Slowly Anders reached out and he pressed one fingertip to a line of lyrium over Fenris' chest. Anders sucked in a lungful of air and the room spun around Fenris, power surging through him. This desire was so new to him, he had no idea how to handle it, his body confused. As a slave he would have been beaten for these wants. Slaves were taught never to want, were bred like prize winning stallions in hopes of creating stronger workers. They did not have desires of their own.

Fenris took a deep breath, trying to soothe his racing heart. Here, he was free to want, free to have, to take. Danarius was not standing over him.

"You're nervous," Anders said. "I thought you wanted this."

"I desire this like nothing else," Fenris said. He caught Anders' hand and brought it to his chest, fingers splaying across his skin. "I cannot control my want."

"I can see that." Anders' thumb worked back and forth over Fenris' dark skin before sliding away. Fenris wanted to follow, an invisible tether pulling him towards Anders. "So what do you want?"

Fenris thought what he wanted was abundantly clear, yet Anders was looking at him and waiting for an answer. Fenris' mind worked. He had seen all manner of sexual acts in Tevinter, shared between men and women and groups of both. He had been Danarius' to use as the Magister saw fit. But wanting any of those things had never entered his mind.

Was it the sign of a free man to want these things for himself?

When he didn't answer, Anders sighed. "Well, you can't tell me so how about you just stop me if you don't want something?" And with that he dropped down to his knees in front of Fenris. "But right now, I'm going to suck your cock."

"Going to suck--" Fenris repeated and drew in a harsh breath. No one had ever done that for him. "You do not have to."

"Oh, I know," Anders said. He looked up at Fenris, warm eyes glowing with reflected candlelight. He dragged his finger up Fenris' thigh to the band of his hose, following the sharp cut of his hipbones. One deft tug and the laces that bound Fenris' hose were pulled undone.

Fenris could feel the heat growing in his abdomen, a deep ache inside of him that wanted to be released. He was not unfamiliar with the sensation but it had never before been his to desire, just a biological function he suffered through. He could see the swell of his erection pressing against the leather and it was to that rise that Anders pressed his cheek.

The gentle touch startled Fenris and his hand flailed for something to hold onto, finding the edge of the table at last, the candle wobbling dangerously. Anders grinned. He turned his head just slightly, nose bumping against the tenting of Fenris' hose. It startled him less this time but Fenris' fingers still tightened on the edge of the table as Anders followed the line of his groin, warmth from his breath lingering behind.

"I'm going to take these off," Anders said and curled his hand in the waistband. Fenris knew Anders wasn't waiting for an answer. It must be obvious with the way Fenris acted that he was not at all used to or perhaps entirely comfortable with this sort of attention. But, oh, how he wanted it.

Anders tugged Fenris' leathers down slowly, exposing his hipbone and the top of his thigh first on one side and then the other. The tented leather caught and Anders carefully peeled it down, drawing Fenris' erection from within. Fenris couldn't hold back the gasp.

"No smalls?" Anders asked.

Fenris felt his cheeks flame. He could see the hard line of his cock jutting from his groin, red and needy, and Anders so close, fingers that had just touched him. "N-no," he answered. His tongue felt too large in his mouth. "The leathers are...tight."

"Yes they are," Anders said appreciatively. "Do you have any idea how hard it was not to stare at your arse?"

Fenris' mouth gaped open and he tried to work out some sort of answer, some reply, but the words all jumbled in his mind until the only thing he was left with was various curses in Tevene.

Anders drew the hose down to Fenris' ankles, leaving Fenris to step out of them and kick them towards the rest of his discarded clothing. He was unsteady on his feet and he was sure the only thing holding him upright was Anders' hands on his thighs.

There was silence in the room, just his own ragged breaths and the beat of his heart loud in his head. Anders was watching him, hands carefully sliding up and down his thighs, fingers touching lyrium brands and the skin between. Fenris looked towards the ceiling, embarrassment settling over him. It was not the first time he had been naked before another, and certainly not the only time someone had stared at his bare body, but he had never been in this position, standing exposed before someone he desired.

Fenris moved his hands, not knowing whether he should try to cover himself. Danarius would have never allowed him to do such a thing. If he wanted Fenris bare, bare he would be, on display for anyone to view.

Sure enough, Anders caught his hand but no reprimand came. Just a gentle squeeze of his fingers. He looked down at Anders and the man brought Fenris' hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against the skin.

"You are beautiful," Anders said.

Fenris had never heard such reverence in another's voice. Never directed at him. Danarius had called Fenris his prize, his grand work, yes, had called him beautiful but never like this, never so sincere.

Fenris made a noise of protest and attempted to pull his hand away but Anders held it tight.

"You don't know what to do with that, do you?" he asked with an amused grin on his lips. "Surely you've been told this before?"

"...no," Fenris said. It was not quite the truth yet it was accurate.

Anders shuffled on his knees, drawing himself up just a little, his chest bumping up against Fenris' thighs. Fenris gave a start but Anders still held his hand tight. Anders leaned forward and pressed his lips to the spot below Fenris' navel and Fenris felt his cock brush up against scratchy stubble on Anders' neck. He drew in a thick breath and Anders chuckled.

"You are a mystery, dear Fenris," Anders said. That was the last of his words. He leaned down, letting Fenris' cock drag against his throat, his chin, until he could press his lips to the flushed head. He never let go of Fenris' hand and, truthfully, Fenris was glad for the support. He clenched his other hand on the edge of the table and watched as Anders' lips parted around the head of his cock, pink tongue flicking out against him.

The feeling was indescribable. His branding flared and Anders' lips slid down over him, drawing Fenris' cock into his wet mouth, tongue working against his flushed skin. Fenris' abdomen clenched and the slightest sound left his lips, enough to draw Anders' gaze to him.

He had beautiful eyes. Fenris could not tear himself away.

Anders' plush lips worked over him, back and forth, leaving a spit shiny trail behind when he pulled away, only to surge back down. Fenris gasped and felt his eyes closing. He couldn't stand to watch. It was too much to see Anders' mouth on him, too much to watch his cock disappear between flushed lips.

He could still feel the tight suction of Anders' lips, the way his tongue curled around Fenris' cock, how it laved at the fluid leaking from his tip. He could still hear the wet slide, the small hums of encouragement Anders made around him. Fenris was barely aware he was shaking, only felt Anders' hand tighten around his, the other sliding to clutch at his rear, pulling Fenris forward. Anders' nose pressed against his skin and Fenris groaned. His hand phased straight through the tabletop and he grabbed at Anders' shoulder as he felt the heat surge within him. Anders didn't let him go, didn't draw back as Fenris came down his throat, just continued to suck, coaxing Fenris' orgasm from him.

Fenris felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he doubled over, hand clutching desperately at Anders' skin. He was quiet save his harsh breaths and the small, strangled noises he made as he attempted to keep his pleasure hidden. He could feel Anders' ragged breaths through his nose against his skin and Fenris pushed back. His cock slipped from between Anders' lips, a trail of his seed trickling over swollen lips.

Anders didn't let him get far. He tightened his hand around Fenris' and leaned forward and dragged his tongue up Fenris' length. This time Fenris cried out. He was spent and sensitive, his toes and fingers tingling and a laxness in his spine that made it hard to keep standing. Anders pushed on, dragging his tongue around Fenris' cock, cleaning away the mess, drawing another high-pitched whine from Fenris. It was only when Anders felt he was done did he move back, resting on the balls of his feet and looking up at Fenris.

Fenris flopped backwards into the chair, thighs shaking and hands trembling, one still caught by Anders, who was stroking his thumb back and forth gently.

Embarrassment snuck up faster than Fenris had expected. Anders had not even divested himself of his trousers and Fenris had come so hard he was shaking. He looked at the ground, not wanting to meet Anders' eyes. Surely the man would be disappointed? Perhaps mock him for his crude performance?

Fenris couldn't look up as Anders stood, his hand slipping away. He didn't want to know if Anders was disappointed with him. He desired the man so strongly he would prefer he just leave. Instead, Anders came closer and Fenris looked up just as Anders sat on his lap.

"What are you--" Fenris was cut off. Anders grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled himself flush with Fenris. He touched their lips together, hand sliding up into Fenris' hair as he kissed him. Fenris groaned despite himself. He put his arms around Anders, wanting him close, wanting that heat and the soothing feel of the man's hands on him, skin against his. And pressing against his stomach he could feel Anders' hardness, hot and heavy and eager.

"Care to help me out?" Anders murmured against his lips with a sly smile. He hitched his hips up and Fenris sucked in a harsh breath through his nose.

He did want. Never in his life had he imagined that he would want to touch another man this way, nor a woman, but he wanted now. Anders took his hand and lowered it between them.

"It's all right," he said, lips brushing Fenris' cheeks. "Touch me. I know I’ll enjoy it."

Fenris' fingers fumbled with the laces to Anders' trousers, the knot eluding him several times. Anders was moving his hips in small jerks, pressing up against his skin and Fenris needed to touch him. He pulled the laces free finally and drew open the man's trousers. The flushed head of Anders' cock stood up against his stomach and Anders had to shift a little, drawing himself up to lower his trousers just enough, his smallclothes pressing up behind his balls. Fenris looked at Anders and the man nodded. His cheeks were beautifully flushed, eyes bright and aware and Fenris leaned forward, just touching their lips together, breathing against one another.

"Touch me, Fenris," Anders encouraged again, words a low whisper. Fenris nodded and reached out, his fingers grazing the head of Anders' length. It was warm and skin-soft and Fenris curled his hand around it. The angle was awkward crushed between them but Anders gave an encouraging hum and pressed his hips forward, cock sliding between Fenris' fingers.

Danarius had not often made him do this. Preferred to use him in different ways. But Fenris understood, knew what made a man feel good, and dragged his fist around Anders' cock, the foreskin sliding back and forth and slick leaked from the slit.

Anders groaned and his hand tightened in Fenris' hair. It only encouraged him and he worked his hand faster, tighter until Anders was breathing heavy against his cheek, his hips moving in continuous little jerks.

Fenris wanted to see him climax. Wanted to feel it hot on his skin, wanted to hear Anders cry out in pleasure. He felt it when Anders' balls tightened and he jerked his hips one last time, pressing up into Fenris' fist as he came. He moaned into Fenris' ear, hand still tight in white hair, tugging and clawing against his scalp.

Fenris let out a long exhale of breath, wondering if he had been holding it in. He carefully let go of Anders' cock, his hand and belly sticky where Anders had come against him. He touched his fingers to the mess on his skin.

"M-Maker!" Anders said. He let his hand slide free of Fenris' hair and he leaned back. His cock softened between them, spent now. Anders touched his fingers to the skin of Fenris' stomach. "Made a mess..."

Fenris didn't pull away when Anders took his hand and raised it to his lips. But he couldn't help but jolt when Anders slid his lips over Fenris' fingers to suck them clean.

"Fasta vass... Anders!"

Anders' gaze met his, hot and heady and he sucked at Fenris' fingers until they were clean. He let them go, fingers sliding from his mouth followed by a trail of spit that broke between them. Fenris touched his wet hand to Anders' cheek and kissed him. He had not tasted himself like that before, hot on someone else’s tongue, but it was there, bitter and strong laced with the taste of Anders himself.

Anders stroked Fenris’ hair back from his forehead, smiling at him. His cheeks were still flushed and Fenris just stared. He had never done this, never been with anyone because he wanted, never had someone so beautiful and striking avail himself to Fenris.

“Do I suffice?” Anders asked, lips breaking into a grin.

Suffice? Fenris scoffed. “Did I not spend in your mouth?” he asked.

Anders’ eyebrows raised up. “Oh, so you do have a sense of humor in there somewhere!” He laughed, carefree.

Behind them there came a plaintive _meow_ and the sound of claws scratching the door. Anders looked over his shoulder and his expression softened.

“Pounce always finds me if I disappear. He doesn’t like me getting too far.” Anders slipped from Fenris’ lap, adjusting his trousers as he went, tucking himself back into his smalls. Fenris watched his arse as he went to the door.

Pounce strolled into the room, smug, tail in the air and nose sniffing. Anders bent down and lifted the cat into his arms. “Who’s my big boy, then?” Anders asked. He babied that cat.

Fenris’ eyes roamed higher to the expanse of Anders’ back. He breathed in quickly, breath catching in his throat as he saw the scars.

His voice was tight when he said, “You were a slave.”

Across Anders’ skin faded scars painted a cruel landscape. Lashes from a whip, punishment for whatever misdeed a harsh Master deemed owing. Fenris got to his feet, wanting to reach for Anders, wanting to touch the marks a wicked hand had left behind. He had seen the lines a whip left behind but he had never quite seen the extensive damage done to Anders. Had Anders come from Tevinter? Fenris didn’t know if any Southerners kept slaves.

Anders looked back at Fenris. He patted Pounce’s head, stroking the soft ears. The cat looked content to be held. “You could say that,” Anders answered.

Fenris frowned. If Anders hadn't been a slave who would inflict such wounds on him? He couldn’t ask. Anders’ expression had changed, withdrawn, focusing on the cat in his arms. The warmth of what they had shared was gone.

Anders whispered something to the cat and it chirruped in response, pawing up at Anders. It made him smile.

“I should leave,” Fenris said but he felt his voice waiver. He grabbed his clothes from the floor but stopped when his fingers touched the feathered pauldrons of Anders’ coat. He closed his eyes and let his fingers stroke the plumage.

“You don’t need to go. If you’re not satisfied. I would want you to get your money’s worth. You know Lusine is going to charge you a premium.”

Fenris shook his head. “Did I seem unsatisfied?” he asked and looked up. Anders was watching him. “I would… May I return?”

Anders was silent for a moment, just staring at Fenris, but he seemed far away. Eventually Anders gave a small nod and it soothed the racing heartbeat in Fenris’ chest.

* * *

 

Fenris was glad to flee, leaving Anders behind in the small room with his cat. Fenris tugged at his gauntlet. He could feel the bile in the back of his throat. The scars on Anders’ back had reminded him of just what he was running from. What he came to Kirkwall to do. It was not to entertain his desires with a fellow ex-slave.

Anders had said he was in hiding. Was he also hiding from his Master? Had he escaped and fled from Tevinter or elsewhere? Fenris wanted desperately to ask the questions. Never before had he met another slave on the run. Most slaves did not think of freedom. They didn’t understand what it meant or why they would want to be away from their Masters. Before Danarius was forced to leave Fenris behind in Seheron Fenris wouldn’t have understood why he would want his freedom either. He had been taught what freedom meant. Now he craved it.

Spending more time with Anders would put them both in danger. Fenris knew more of Danarius’ agents would come for him. Varric’s lie would not hold them off for long - they would learn of the deception and return to Kirkwall.

Fenris hoped the dwarf’s lie did not return to bite him.

“You don’t look satisfied,” Lusine said as Fenris descended the stairs.

He paused at the last step. The woman had a hard face, shrewd in her business dealings. He had no doubt that if Anders _had_ failed to please, she would be having words with him.

“I am more than satisfied,” Fenris said. “What will you have me pay?”

Lusine scrutinized him, her harsh gaze boring through him. She huffed finally and turned, indicating Fenris should follow her. The bar was as crowded as usual and Fenris had to push past two Templars who gave him disapproving looks as he passed. Fenris did not doubt that he had a reputation among the Order now.

“You understand that this is a _special_ service,” Lusine said. She ran her nail down a line of scrawled writing in her book. Fenris didn’t know what was written there. “Anders would not do this for just anyone. You’re obviously a special man.” She looked at him again. “I think I understand why he acquiesced.”

“My payment?” Fenris asked again. He felt claustrophobic in the bar, his back to the masses. If Danarius’ men were looking for him, who would be looking for Anders? A skilled healer would mean as much to someone as Fenris undoubtedly meant to Danarius.

“Our usual Premium service costs two sovereigns but I think it fair to charge you five. Like I said this is a _special_ privilege.”

“Fine.” Fenris took his coin purse from one of the satchels at his waist. He missed the way Lusine’s eyes lit up with greed. It was expensive but it barely dented what Fenris had accumulated while travelling to Kirkwall. He handed the gold coins to Lusine and they were snatched away.

“You will be back, I trust.” The coins disappeared into a box behind the bar, the key to the heavy padlock around Lusine’s neck. “Unless you were displeased.”

Fenris couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder towards the stairs leading upstairs. He wanted to return. Even if not for a sexual encounter he wanted to return just to spend time with Anders, to be in his presence. Yes, he wanted to return upstairs, as well. He wanted to feel Anders’ hands on him again, taste his lips, press him into the bed and have him. But it put them both in danger.

“You don’t seem satisfied. I’ve not met a man who scowled so much after being with one of our staff. You paid for Anders to service you.”

Fenris scowled. “He is not a whore,” he said.

“Yet he went out the back with you. You paid to spend time with him and…” She looked at him and a cruel smile curled her lips. “...someone has spent themselves on your trousers.”

Fenris looked down and saw the marks near his groin. He swore and wiped at the stains hopelessly. They would need to be washed out, dry now on the leather.

“You paid Anders for his service and he has obviously given it to you. However you chose to entertain his time. Let us not argue over semantics.”

“He is a healer. You will not ask this of him again.” Fenris curled his heavy plated fingers on the wooden counter.

Lusine crossed her arms. “Oh? And who do you think you are to demand anything of me and my establishment?”

Fenris looked away. The thought of Anders going into one of the back rooms with anyone else… The privilege made Fenris feel special. Wanted. Anders had admitted to thinking of him, had admitted to watching. Something burned in his stomach and he choked it back. “If I were to pay you…”

Lusine lowered her arms. She leaned on the counter to come closer to him. “You wish to pay for...exclusivity?”

Fenris curled his hand into a fist, the points of his gauntlet digging into his flesh. “No. I wish to pay for him to be left alone. You will not ask any _extra_ services of him.”

“Unless it is to be you?” Lusine asked.

Fenris knew he couldn’t return. Not for that, anyway. If he did return to see Anders it would need to be brief, private. No one could know of his comings and goings.

“You will still have to pay extra to have him,” Lusine demanded. “Five sovereigns every five days for his exclusivity.”

Fenris did not correct her this time. If she wanted to believe Fenris was doing this out of some sort of misguided jealousy she...might not be so wrong. But those were not his only reasons and she could not understand them all. “I accept. I shall return with payment. It is unwise to carry around so much coin.”

Lusine looked up to where she could see the hilt of his sword over his shoulder. “I am sure you can handle yourself.”

Fenris grunted and turned on his heel, stalking out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I apologise in advance with how slow I write. I don't have any kind of release schedule and posting the chapters as I write them is the only way I can regain any sort of motivation when I'm feeling ill or having tough days where my hands and fingers won't work.
> 
> Feel free to hop on over to [Tumblr](http://emotionalmorphine.tumblr.com) and follow me for more fics and update news!


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